


the birthday girl

by TheDangerZone



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, F/F, F/M, Female Billy Hargrove, Female Steve Harrington, Happy Ending, Parent/Child Incest, Post Season 3, Trans Steve Harrington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24684616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDangerZone/pseuds/TheDangerZone
Summary: “How old are you today?” Neil says into her ear.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Billy Hargrove/Neil Hargrove, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	the birthday girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashinc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashinc/gifts).



> i deleted this and am uploading it again.  
>   
> please read the tags!!

It’s Billie’s 15th birthday.

She wakes up at six in the morning to the sound of her bedroom door opening and the not-exactly- quiet footsteps of Neil coming into her room and walking towards her twin bed. She got trashed last night with Cid and Wayne underneath the pier. She thinks she fucked both of them. At least Wayne. It feels like she fucked Wayne. Wayne is way bigger than Cid.

Neil pulls her blankets down. He’s got his jeans on already, which means he’s going to work early. He pulls her panties off. Spreads her legs. Billie lays back and let’s him arrange her however he wants. It’s a lot quicker this way. Let him do his thing and Billie can do her thing and everyone can move on with their lives.

The lights are still off. She sees snapshots of Neil. There’s his mustache. There are his blue eyes. There's his tongue licking his lips and--there’s Neil kissing her. She groans, way too loudly. She hates kissing him, but he gets bitchy when she doesn’t kiss him back or she doesn’t open her mouth so she does both. Let’s him fuck her with his tongue first.

Ever since marrying Susan Mayfield, Neil’s had to compromise, cut back to fucking Billie only when he can get away with it. No more bending her over the kitchen table and fucking her. No more pulling her onto his lap while he watches whatever game happens to be on that night and sneaking a hand into her panties and calling it a ‘game’. Billie knew it wasn’t a game back when she was 13 and she knows damn well it’s not a game now.

She’s fucking soaked. Dripping for it. It’s probably fucked up to get this wet for her own dad. She gets that. Her head hurts and she sort of wants to throw up, so she’s not exactly keen to think about it more than ‘whelp, there’s that’ and move passed it like she always does.

Neil lies on top of her. His jeans are harsh on her bare legs. His fly rubs at her bare pussy. She crashed last night in a tube top, tossing her bra and jeans into some corner of her room. She knew what was going to happen in the morning. Still.

He’s not the biggest guy. She hit puberty and a few growth spurts and now they’re practically the same height give or take a couple of inches. His breath smells like peppermint and nicotine and he kisses her slow and precise, his mustache rubbing on her face. An army man. Militant. Everything has to be _just so_.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” Neil whispers into her ear, not wanting to wake the Mrs. or Billie’s new step-sister Billie’s room is sandwiched between. He pushes inside of her. Never one to wait or check if she’s ready. She is or she isn’t either way he’s putting his dick in her. Fucks her softly, drags his dick in and out of her with those all too nice kind of rolls of his hips that make her clutch at her pillows and lights up shit inside her.

Neil fucking her like she’s just some hole to shoot his jizz into whenever he wants? Fine. Billie can handle that. Has been handling that for years now. Can come pretty easy now without even having to touch her clit. Has learned how to do it. If she’s gonna get fucked she might as well get herself off, no one else is gonna do it.

Neil being slow? Acting like he’s making love to her, like he loves her, like she’s her mother and _Neil loves her_ and Billie’s not just some thing to dump his come into?

Billie clenches her eyes shut, bites her lips to try not to make any noise, less about waking up the two redheaded devils that have decided Neil’s a better option than being single and more to not give Neil the satisfaction of making her come on her birthday. It's the little things like this that she grabs on to that keep her going. Can't let him see any tears. Can't let him act like being nice and sweet and good at fucking her makes her so fucking wet and quick to shoot off--not on her birthday.

It's the principle of it, you know?

Neil sucks at her neck, shoves her top up to squeeze at her tit and that feels stupid good too. Everything Neil does feels good lately and it makes Billie want to shove a bunch of rocks into her jacket and take a swim off the pier.

Neil starts to speed up and Billie tries not to come because Neil will feel it and it’s her birthday and fine, if her dad wants to fuck her than _fine_. Let him fuck her. Whatever. It’s just her cunt. She can handle it. But she’s not gonna let him make her come. She’s going to outlast him.

But then his thumb is on her clit and it could be an accident, a grope gone wrong, but he stays there and makes these circles around her clit, doesn't let up, and it really is like Billie is a person and she matters and Neil loves her because Neil fucks her and comes in her and doesn’t care if she gets off or not, it’s not about _her_ , it’s about him and his dick and her tight little pussy that’s as big of a Slut for Cock just like her Whore Mother and needs to be taken care of properly by a Real Man like her daddy. None of this is about _Billie_.

And now Neil’s rubbing her clit and she’s going to come so much and gush around her dad’s dick and it’s so damn early in the morning and it’s her _birthday_ and when Billie does come she drenches Neil, bucks off the bed and into _Neil_ , clenches so tight around him, squirts hard enough to soak the mattress through. She’s got tears running down her face and Neil’s jizz deep inside her and it feels so fucking good.

She lies panting on her bed, letting Neil get his last few pumps in, the wet squelch of his dick in her pussy, the slap of his balls on her ass, makes her orgasm taper off slow. She closes her eyes and imagines it’s Robert Redford or Wayne’s older brother or Cid’s dad or a cucumber she stole from the grocers that’s jamming into her and grunting in her ear.

Neil comes with a hard shove. He doesn’t move afterwards. Stays deep inside her, on top of her, nuzzling at her neck, her curls. She keeps her hands on her pillows and waits him out, trying not to squirm because Neil might get the wrong idea and think she wants it again and the worst thing is she might.

“How old are you today?” Neil says into her ear, makes her shudder. “Fifteen.”

Neil hums. He pinches her nipple too hard and Billie twitches, her legs splayed wide clench around Neil’s waist and she can feel him get hard again and she thinks if Neil comes again maybe after he’s done he’ll be just as nice to her as when he’s fucking her.

He kisses her again. Just as slow. Just as loving. Calls her _babydoll_ just like he used to call Billie’s mom when she was around, before Neil thought it was a great idea to teach his little girl how to take a Real Man's dick. It makes her cunt throb, gush a little, makes her push herself a little more onto her daddy’s dick.

She’s fifteen. She’s survived fifteen whole years of Neil. She can do three more.

-

It’s probably a little shitty of Billie to show up at a guy’s house in the middle of the night expecting to get laid, especially when that guy is the Chief of Police for a shitty little town Billie wants to burn down on the daily, but, like, she’s drunk and horny and it’s technically midnight which makes it her birthday and like _fuck_ is she going back to that house where Neil’s waiting to give her her present.

Chief Hopper is looking down at her. With _pity_. And that’s just. Fucked up.

He’s a pussy. He keeps his hands above her waist. It took a solid two weeks of closed mouth kissing for him to let Billie stick her tongue in his mouth. He won’t go any further. _Kissing_ had been a thing they had to work up to.

She’s been stuck in Hawkins for six months now and at least a good chunk of that has been trying to get into a cop’s pants. She’s ashamed of herself for a lot of reasons but mostly because she’s trying to bang a cop and she’s putting her all in, tits out cunt out and this asshole still won’t give it up.

“It’s my birthday.” She says. She tries to say it. It takes like three attempts to get the words to stop slurring together so much.

Hooper isn’t letting her in. They’re standing out on the porch. The front door is shut. She thinks he has a kid, she doesn’t really know. Or care. The only thing she cares about is getting to suck what she knows will be the biggest and fattest dick in this town.

She might have said that out loud. Which is _fine_. He should take it as a compliment. A hint that Billie’s got a big mouth and knows how to use it. It's a _good_ thing.

Hopper sighs, puts a hand on her shoulder and his hand is so fucking big and heavy and fucking envelopes and Billie wants him to shove it up inside her. Maybe choke her. She wonders if he’d split her open.

Good christ does she want to fuck.  
  
“Billie.” Hopper says in that sad way that means he’s about to turn her down and send her off to go

hump a fucking tree all on her lonesome _again_.  
  
“It’s my birthday.” She says. “I--I have other options, you know? Like. Fuck. You’re not the onlydick in this fucking shitville.”

Plenty of guys will fuck her. She could even swing a couple of chicks too. Small town like this, they’d know to shut up and keep it to themselves. She's eaten Carol out like five times this week and Tommy doesn't have a goddamn clue.

Hopper sighs again and he looks tired and big and hot and his shirt is halfway unbuttoned and he has so much more chest hair, way more than anyone at school. He's a bear she wants to be attacked by. Pushed to the ground and mauled by, fucks her on all fours with her face shoved in the mud by one of his meaty hands. She's rubbed off to that fantasy so many times she could scream.

He should want her. An old single guy living by himself in a cabin all the way out here on the outskirts of a town that’s already on the outskirts of civilization--Billie’s an upgrade from his own hand or whatever goat he's putting it in.

Billie’s not even wearing a bra. She took her panties off in the car. She’s ready for it and wants it and Hopper is a pussy motherfucker.

One speeding ticket led to another led to Hopper seeing the bruise on her cheek to putting the pieces together to trying to help her out by hooking her up with some side gigs at Melvald’s for cash to Billie getting drunk off her ass and calling him _daddy_ one night and asking him to fuck her _please please please_.

And he didn’t. And he doesn’t. He’s a good guy. She hates him.

Hopper glances behind him. Pulls his keys out of his pocket. Locks the door. Says, “C’mon.”

They go to his car and Billie doesn’t wait for him to close his door and get settled, she yanks off her jeans, kicks them to the floor and climbs on top of his lap, straddles him, gets her clit right up against the fly of his jeans and grinds down on it for a few seconds. Braces herself on his chest, leans on his gut. Kisses him and sucks on his tongue for a couple good, solid seconds. Hopper stops her and she whimpers, clenching around his thighs, scratching at his shirt from the desperation that’s running through her.

“Fuck me. _Fuck me, daddy, please_.” She says and she’s begging for it, as close as she can. Reaches between them and rubs at the front of his pants and feels him and she’s felt that dick through denim so many damn times and has pictured it in her head and fucked herself on so many country pricks imagining it was his.

Hopper grabs her wrists and slows her down, stops her completely, yanks her hands up. She whines. Grinds her pussy down on him and him watching her, holding her, not fucking her makes her come so fast, gushes all over him. She’s shaking, her hips stuttering and it’s not earth shattering or anything like that but it gets her out of her head, makes her feel a little less like she’s gonna lose it.

Hopper is breathing quick, inhales sharply through his nose. The car stinks like her.

“Listen, kid.” Hopper says and it’s the start of that talk. The same one he tries to give her every time, acting like he’s not hard and like he doesn’t want to be inside her. “You can’t keep doing this. _I can’t._ ”

“I’m on the pill.” Billie tries.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m seventeen now. I’m so fucking legal.”

“Yeah and I’m closer to fifty.” Hopper gives her that look again. She yanks her hands out of his grip only to put them back on his chest, clutch at his shirt. She's a needy fucker.

“Stop looking at me like that.” _Like I’m your kid and like you give a shit._

Hopper shakes his head. Rubs at her wrists then puts his hands on her hips and he’s so warm and stupid big. He rubs circles into her hips with his big big thumbs, keeps his grip light. Always so light and soft and meant to not hurt her. She feels so small. Delicate.

“Don’t you have anyone your own age you like, kid?”

She thinks about Steve Harrington. His face appears in her head. His stupid hair. His pretty pink lips. His stupid pretty bruised up face. He’ll never live down getting beat up by a chick. Billie dethroned the King and she lost any chance she had with him. He won’t even look at her at school anymore.

She’s not used to having crushes on someone her own age. Steve’s an anomaly. He already hates her. He’d hate her more if he knew what she lets her dad do to her. That she sleeps with men twice her age and lets them do whatever they want with her too. He’s that Good Guy everyone loves. The Prom King. He’s gonna find a wife who’s never even seen a dick in person. Billie’s just a bitch in heat. She’ll take any cock thrown her way.

Billie shakes her head, feeling too close to falling over and crying suddenly. She’s dizzy and Hopper is so warm and all she wants. All she wants--

She doesn’t know. Not really.

She grinds down on him, little jerks of her hips, an instinct at this point, and this time Hopper doesn’t stop her, he keeps his hands on her hips and lets her rub herself on him, soak the front of his jeans in slick. the car seat underneath. He doesn’t get off. He never does. He can hold out. Any charm Billie or her pussy has he’s immune to it.

She buries her face in his neck when she comes, feels the scratchiness of his beard on her cheek, feels like she’s floating. He pets the back of her head. Hugs her to his chest.

“It’s my birthday.” She says again, her voice cracking. Wet. Gross. Hopper’s holds her. Kisses her cheek. She doesn’t want to leave. She knows she’s going to anyways.

-

Heather covers the rest of Billie’s shift so she can head out early, says it’s her _official b-day present for my best gal_. Her curly ponytail bounces and the Indiana sunset hits her bright teeth in just the right way to sparkle. She’s so amazingly _sweet_ and to _Billie_ that Billie sort of wants to call Heather her friend _to_ her face in a completely serious non-asshole way.

Billie kisses her cheek. Slaps her ass on the way out. Hightails it to the locker room to shower. Spends a few extra minutes to get her curls in order. Puts on that deep red lipstick she likes best. Pops her lips in the mirror and winks and doesn’t _really_ need to practice her smile anymore. She’s smiling already. There’s sunshine in her chest. Actual sunshine. She’s going to go home and she’s got actual, literal _from space_ sunshine inside her.

She’s renting Hop’s old trailer. Has been for at least a year now.

The trailer’s peeling paint from the inside out. There’s some rotted wood Billie’s still figuring out how to replace. Inside it smells like cigarettes and there are some stains on the carpet that are, at best, questionable. But it’s got a roof and heating and _will_ have air conditioning. No neighbors. No woods. Just a lake to go skinny dipping in when it’s warm, some grass and a handful of pine trees, and the occasional cow that wanders over from the Robinson’s farm for head scratches. The best thing about it is the rent is so cheap.

Like, Billie’s _barely_ paying rent. She paid more for her room back when she lived with _Neil_ than she’s paying now and doesn’t even have to put out. She’s _pretty sure_ it’s because Hopper feels guilty about _almost_ getting into her pants. Like somehow Billie holds it against him. Like, Billie’s not the one who humped his leg for _months_ while he didn’t even get off.

She drops by the station every month to give him the rent money and Hopper plays up the _father- daughter_ age difference he can’t seem to get over. Ruffles her hair. Tells her to stay in school two years after she’s graduated. Tells her to get a job even though she knows damn the fuck well _he knows_ she has a job considering she has to watch his kid and Max flirt every time they drop by the pool, which is _every day_ in the summer.

For two dykes in Indiana, they’re not _at all_ as subtle as they should be. Billie’s totally rooting for them. Whistles at every dumbass guy who spends a second too long looking at either one of them.

Max might be a little firecrotch bitch who gets on every single one of Billie’s nerves, but, well, Billie likes her _okay_. She’s a good kid. A smart one too.

Billie parks Steph’s beemer on a little dirt section out front of the trailer. The beemer’s really _their_ beemer since the camaro is out of commission and lying under a blue tarp until Billie can save enough money to fix any of the _dozens_ of problems it has and Steph literally put her foot down and will not let Billie skateboard the three miles to the pool.

Billie’s figured out that when Steph gets that worried, teary, too-fucking-earnest look to just go with her instead of putting up a fight like she usually does, like she wants to whenever anyone tells her what to do. Getting t-boned while possessed by a monster from another dimension will put things into perspective.

Like giving people a chance to know her isn’t the worst feeling in the world. Like learning to trust someone and that person trusting them back can be one of the best feelings she’s ever fucking felt. Billie’s gotten a little soft. She’s gross. She’s a nasty motherfucker and she’s _in love_.

She sort of hates herself for how damn _happy_ she is at just the sight of the dinky, rotting, nicotine soaked trailer, but she also sort of loves herself a little bit too.

That’s another side effect to almost dying. Getting broken open, having it all spill out, all that she was lanced and drained out of her meant she got to have some say in what got put back inside her.

Billie bolts out of the beemer, jumps over the small wooden stairs, her feet barely touching the ground. The trailer door sticks when she unlocks it and she loves that it does.

Inside’s mostly all of Hopper’s old furniture plus whatever Steph brought from her house the night she moved in—her records, an armful of books, a lot of photographs of the kids and a few of Steph’s parents and younger cousins. She’s not in any of them, except for one. A polaroid Billie took of her the first night she slept over. She still had short hair and still went by _Steve_ to everyone except Billie.

It had been passed midnight when Billie had managed to convince her to put on some of Billie’s baby pink lipstick because she _knew_ it would pop on Steph. Steph hadn’t believed her. Said she was more of a _tomboy_. That she wouldn’t look _good_ in makeup. Said it like she actually believed it. Like she thought _tomboy_ meant _ugly,_ like she thought _she_ was ugly.

Things had been new between them then. Billie had been right out of the hospital. She had fresh scars that tugged at her skin and made it impossible to lift her arms over her head because she was still in recovery. She’d been on meds that made her want to sleep all day and made her head cloudy enough to not cry every second she was awake.

The old Billie would’ve said something smooth to get Steph to shut up and just let Billie fuck her. The new Billie who nearly died and who found out just how big the world was and how dangerous Hawkins could be and learned that trusting someone else isn’t the _worst_ thing she could do and how Steph had had this secret for so long and no one to tell and be herself with—Billie, the new Billie, the better Billie, couldn’t stand the idea that Steph thought of herself as anything less than breathtaking.

Billie had gotten the lipstick. Practically new. Gently applied it to Steph with hands that had tremors and still do. Steph had touched her lips afterwards and Billie told, honestly, made sure Steph knew she was telling the god's honest truth that she was pretty. Gorgeous. The most beautiful girl she’s ever seen. Made Steph blush and tell her to _shut up_ and Billie had kissed every tear away, every inch of Steph’s face until she got her girl to smile at her. Pulled her polaroid camera out and took a shot just to back her point up for Steph. Keeps the polaroid tucked into the mirror’s frame in their bedroom. Looks at it every morning. _There’s Steph, shy and smiling and pretty as all get out._

The kitchen’s tiny and covered in flour. The sinks full of dirty dishes and pots soaking. Steph’s cooking _something_ , she’s always got some new recipe she wants to try out. Living on take out and prepackaged stuff most of her life, Steph is hellbent on home cooked meals. Billie’s gained like _at least_ fifteen pounds since they started dating.

Billie skips over the kitchen and finds Steph in the one and only bedroom, sleeping and drooling on Billie’s pillow, clutching at it like it’s Billie and Billie is, _like_ , in love with every inch of this trailer. Every single inch. She’s so fucking stupid in love, _jesus fucking christ_ , she’s hopped up on _love_.

Billie kicks off her shoes and jeans. She gently pries Steph’s strangle hold on the pillow to replace it with herself, slides right in and welcomes that bruising, comforting hold.

Steph’s grown her hair out, has it up in a messy bun, loose hair tickling her cheek. She’s got scruff

on her jaw. She’s in her favorite jean skirt and one of Billie’s Metallica shirts with the sleeves Billie had cut off ages ago. She’s covered in flour. On her nose. Her hair. Her clothes. It’s all over the duvet Joyce bought them as a house warming gift. She’s cute as fuck. Billie wants to shake her awake and tell her she’s cute as fuck. Make her blush and squirm under her. Billie’s dying to kiss her. Fuck her and make her come.

Steph’s eyes are moving and she’s starting to wake up, squinting her eyes open one at a time. She mumbles something and stretches and it’s really _dumb_ how much Billie likes to watch Steph wake up, how ridiculously excited she is for Steph to wake up. Like, she wants to do this every morning until she’s dead in the dirt and then she wants to do it for eternity.

Steph narrows her eyes at Billie. She checks her watch then the curtains behind her.  
  
“Did you get fired?” Steph says, groggy. Her voice catching low and scratchy and confused.

“So, so funny. I’m a model employee. I could totally be employee of the month.” Billie pinches Steph’s bare thigh lightly then smooths her hand up under her skirt just to hold her.

Steph rubs at her eyes. Then she pinches the end of Billie’s nose. “You gotta up your drowning numbers.”

“I already refuse to learn CPR. I’m only five dudes croaking from being number one. _So_ many people have died.”

“That’s my girl.” Steph says, real easy and sure and Billie’s never gonna be tired of hearing her say it. It doesn’t hurt like when Neil said it. It feels good. Makes her happy and hopeful, lights her up, gives her that sunshine in her chest that makes every color bright.

Steph starts running her fingers over Billie’s face. She’s tracing over her freckles. Billie can tell the familiar route she’s taking. Circling over her cheeks and nose again and again. Billie closes her eyes and lets Steph’s touch wash over her then she reaches out and touches the gold pendant necklace around Steph’s neck. Billie gave it to her for three months ago and she hasn’t seen Steph without it since.

Steph’s her girl too. _Her’s_. Only her’s. Just thinking about that makes Billie dizzy.

She wipes the flour off of Steph’s nose. Says, “Heather’s covering the rest of my shift.” “She’s nice.”

“You’re nicer.”  
  
“You’re—“ Steph purses her lips, “—your hair is _really_ big.”

“Aww.” Billie croons. “If you keep sweet talkin’ me like that, I’m gonna soak through the fucking mattress.” Billie sneaks her hand further up Steph’s skirt, reaches her panties and grabs at her ass, makes Steph bite her lip. “I think you should get naked.”

“Just me?”  
  
“Yeah.” Billie pops one of the skirt’s buttons.

Steph’s lip quirks up into a small smile. She laughs lightly. Breathy. Cutely. Like, there’s nothing Steph does that isn’t adorable, that doesn’t leave Billie flustered with her heart fluttering wildly, makes her _need_ to go down on her and get her hollering for more.

But then Steph freezes. Frowns. Billie’s stomach drops, her thoughts jumping to the worst possible thing.

“Did Neil—“

Steph shakes her head, her eyes going wide. She cups Billie’s cheek. “No. _No_. I just.” Steph blushes, glances away and then says, “I didn’t—I’m not done with your cake yet.”

Billie stares at her. “Cake?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You made _me_ a _cake?_ ”  
  
“It’s your _birthday_.”

“But.” Billie clenches her eyes shut. Shakes herself. She says again, confused and relieved, “ _you made me a cake?_ ”

Steph gives her an exasperated smile. Quickly she dips her head those few inches between them and pecks Billie’s lips. “I baked you a cake. I’m still—I’m working on the decorating part—“

Billie’s out of bed, she goes to the fridge and opens the door slowly, carefully and peaks inside. There on the middle shelf is a lopsided cake with the number _20_ written on top with blue icing. Billie recognizes the two and zero as Steph’s.

She stares at it until she has goosebumps on her skin and then shuts the fridge door gently, makes her way back to bed and to Steph who she thinks—she knows—

Billie stands at the foot of the bed and Steph props herself up on her elbows, stares up at Billie in alarm.

“Billie? Are you okay?”  
  
Billie wipes her eyes. Rubs at them hard with the heels of her palms and then her forearms. Shecan’t stop the tears. She’s so fucking—she’s _happy_. She’s so embarrassed and stupid and _happy_.

Steph moves to sit on the edge of the bed, pulls Billie on her lap, Billie straddling her. She wipes at Billie’s cheeks, kisses at the tears and at her ears, pets her hair, coos at her and holds her to her chest like she’s tiny and delicate and she loves her and that’s what breaks the dam that’s already been broken and patched back up so many times since Starcourt mall—Billie _knows_ Steph loves her. _She knows it._ There’s no doubt in Billie’s mind that Steph _loves_ her.

Steph’s her girl and she’s Steph’s girl and she’s alive and Steph’s alive and Max is alive and so many people _aren’t_ alive anymore and they’re still here and _Steph made her a fucking birthday cake_.

“Is it that ugly?” Steph says against her hair. Billie shakes her head. She can’t stop _crying_ long enough to talk or suck in a breath. She hates how she looks crying. Steph’s seen her cry a million times at this point and she wishes so bad she was a pretty crier.

Billie fists Steph’s shirt like back when they were in high school, when Billie didn’t know shit and was so fucking angry at everyone and Steph was just trying to scrape by.

“I’ve never really baked a cake before.” Steph says. “I’ll buy one if it tastes gross.”

Billie wipes her face off on Steph’s shirt that’s her shirt too. It’s their shirt like this is their bed and their home and she just wants to rub her grossness all over Steph.

Billie thinks, _no one's ever baked me a cake, not even my mom_ and mumbles out, “I wanna eat all of it.”

Steph laughs. Rubs the back of Billie’s neck, scratches light at her scalp in soothing circles. She’s growing her fingernails out. She wants to paint them pink one day. Billie’s already bought her pink nail polish. Black too. Even some glittery shit that's as gaudy as hell. She’s got it all tied up in a bag hidden outside, waiting for the perfect time to give it to her.

“Might wanna taste it first. I think I put Worcestershire sauce in there.”

Billie blows her nose on Steph’s shirt then pulls it off of her. Takes her shirt off too, then her bra. Presses their chests together, kisses her fast and too hard and full of so much sunshine and _love_ she’s gonna explode.

“I’m gonna fucking eat all of it, motherfucker.” Billie says, determined, her lips against Steph’s smiling ones. She’s laughing still. Steph’s got the cutest fucking laugh. “Gonna be delicious as shit.”

Steph falls back against the bed, pulling Billie with her and Billie gets her skirt off, pushes her panties down just enough to get her hands on her and she’s dripping and so damn wet and Billie’s never felt so full and good and in stupid, ridiculous all consuming love than when she has Steph’s gorgeous eyes on her and Steph inside her, filling her up, her hands, big and warm and caring touching her, tugging at her hair and pulling her down to kiss pink lips that are so pretty and perfect and soft and Steph tells her between sweet breathy gasps as Billie rides her slow, “Happy birthday, baby.”

Billie smiles and laughs and cries tears that aren’t sad, but full of _so much happiness._ This is the first good birthday she’s ever had. The best one yet. And next year will be even better. And every one after will be the best. For the first time she’s so damn excited.


End file.
